Not the Hero
by darkruki008
Summary: The War has ended, and Hermione Granger is lying on the floor. After her battle with Bellatrix, she is left to die: These are her final moments. Rated T for minor swearing and character death.


**Disclaimer: **I own nothing from the Harry Potter novels or franchise.

**A/N: **This is just something that occurred to me during class, so…yeah. This is kind of what I want the ending to be. Forgive me for the shortness of it, but hey, it's the ending. Also, I forgot the how the "doctors" are called, so I called them "healers". :D

**Not the Hero**

Death, it was all over the place. It was everywhere. The many bodies lay on the floor, some right beside her. She could hear the healers asking for assistance. How far were they from her? Not too far, she hoped.

Was it over? Who had won? Light or darkness?

Someone screamed, probably hurt. So many people need to be attended, so many bodies to be moved. More people were needed. She'd be more than glad to help. But you see…she was lying on the floor with three swords impaled through her body.

Hermione Granger lay dying.

"I wasn't fast enough," she thought, "idiot, idiot, idiot." The pain had been unbearable at first, but it still didn't hurt as much as the Cruciatus Curse. "Idiot, idiot, idiot." She was getting numb, the pain slowly subsiding. But breathing was getting harder to do, especially when she had tried standing up. Now that's when it hurt like hell. But when she did, she had been able to see Bellatrix. She was just the way she'd left her. Too bad she was going to break her promise to Harry and Ron. The memory was still fresh in her mind.

"_Don't worry about me. I'll live, I promise."_ At least she beat her. The hell she did, but her thoughts were abruptly interrupted.

"Is someone there? Anyone alive?" She knew that voice. Neville Longbottom! And he was close! Maybe he'd find her. He'd get help; she'd live. She couldn't rely on signaling him, she'd found out what happens when you try to scream your lungs out when there's a sword through your chest the hard way.

"Oh my God, Hermione." Neville was now knelt beside her.

"Hi." She managed to whisper. The shock was clear on his face. She wondered if that's how he looked when she passed out at the Department of Mysteries on their fifth year.

"But how? No, I-I'll get help. Wait here, I'll be right back." If he had told her that the moment she had fallen she wouldn't had objected. But now it was different. After she hit the floor there was nothing she could do. She couldn't move; she couldn't speak. So, as she got number and number, the only thing left to do was to think. And she thought more profoundly than she had ever done in her life, and that was saying a lot. She had understood that her dying meant Harry had a better chance of beating Voldemort. She accepted the price. She had always considered herself selfless. She was going to die, and she knew it, she accepted it. Still, she wasn't ready to let go. She had to see them one last time.

"Wait, Neville." The taste of copper overwhelmed her. He stopped dead in his tracks. "I need you to get these off me."

Neville looked at her with astonishment. He also looked like he was about to throw up. Violently, he shook his head, obviously scared to death.

"I can't. Sorry, Hermione. I just can't." Desperation poured out of his voice as his watery eyes turned away from her.

"Neville, look at me." Hermione herself was surprised by the intensity of her voice. He had no choice but to obey. As she spoke, she felt her own eyes water, reality was kicking in. "I'm going to die."

"No you're not." He quickly interrupted. "You'll be all right. I'll get help and-"

"Neville, I'm going to die." As cruel as she seemed, it was true. She knew it. He needed to understand, too. It wasn't as she enjoyed telling him that. It was torture, for both of them.

"I'm going to die."

"No you're not!" he burst. But his eyes betrayed his words. He fell to his knees, trying to calm himself. "No you're not," he whimpered.

It was too much for him. He now comprehended the situation perfectly, but he couldn't accept it. Bellatrix, she took his parents from him, and now one of his best friends. It wasn't fair. He turned to the side, and he saw her: Bellatrix. So, looks like she got what she deserved. Her body was leaning against the wall; a lance was through her heart. Her face no longer held her cruel smirk, or any other expression for that matter. Yes, she got what she deserved, all thanks to the young woman beside him.

"Looks like you kicked her ass." He finally said smiling.

"That's what she got for what she did to Sirius, to you parents, and mine." True. After Dumbledore's death a major Muggle killing spree took place. Bellatrix managed to find Hermione's family. She waited for her to arrive, ironically, to get them somewhere safe. But she had been too late. Bellatrix froze her, just like Dumbledore did to Harry, and killed her parents in from of her, laughing the whole time. He remembered how she woke up at night, telling them how her laugh was stuck in her head, how she couldn't get it out. Ron barely left her alone, and Harry understood her perfectly, just like he did. Bellatrix let Hermione live so she could realize how weak she was, she had told her. But that mistake had brought her to her own demise.

"What do you want me to do?"

"I need you to pull the swords out of me. Then find Harry and Ron." It was simple, yet so challenging. He stood up and reached for the sword impaled through her left leg. "They are alive? Right, Neville? Tell me, who won?"

"You were right. Harry's eyes were the key. Voldemort's dead." For so long she had waited to hear those words. Probably since she found out about the, oh, so wonderful world of magic. Finally, after seven years, the Lord of Darkness had fallen one again at the hands of the-Boy-Who-Lived, her best friend, Harry Potter. "Many have fallen on both sides. But after he died, most of the Deatheaters went mad. A side effect of the dark mark, I think. Harry's helping on the upper floor, Ron's on the one above that one, I believe.

"That's good," she answered smiling. Slowly, she closed her eyes. She was tired, numb, and cold.

"Wake up, Hermione." He shook her. "Come on, you have to keep thinking. Um, tell me, how did you beat Bellatrix?" Not a happy subject, but she had to stay awake. Also, he wanted to know how the woman that took his parent's sanity away had died.

"Well," she started, trying to concentrate, "after Harry and Ron left, hexes and curses started to bounce all over the place. Most of them knocked all of the armors to the floor, so the swords were scattered everywhere." She was, of course, referring to the armors spread all along Voldemort's castle. Then-shit!" A wave of pain traveled through her body, especially through her leg. Looks like the numbness had gone away that second: Neville had pulled the sword out.

"One down, two to go."

"Shit, Neville."

"Sorry, but it hurts less if you don't see it coming. Go on, what happened next?" He was freakishly calm, considering the circumstance.

"Right." She saw him grab the sword that was through her abdomen. "After enduring the Cruciatus curse for about the fifth time in a row," what? Five times? He wasn't even able to handle the one time he had fallen victim to the torture curse, and she took five? "She started with the very cliché villain speech; saying how weak I was; how my death would be in vain; how my Mudblood parent's had died, and how soon and painfully I'd be joining them. Somehow, I managed to stand up with a heroic speech of my own. We-damn!" The second sword had been pulled out. Somehow, this one hurt worse than the first. She had a feeling that the last one was would be even worse.

"Go on, Hermione." He gripped the last blade , which was right across her chest.

"So, we each raised our wands. I noticed a lance was a lance was sticking out behind her. We both yelled our curse. I sent her straight at the lance. She died shortly after, I think. But she sent a bunch of swords flying at me. I managed to dodge two, but I wasn't' fast enough."

Neville extricated the last one. As she predicted, it hurt even worse. But she didn't scream. She didn't make a sound. Immediately after, she gasped for air desperately, every forced breath brought a new wave of pain with it.

"So here we are. This is the result for my lack of speed."

"You couldn't have done anything. You should be grateful that you managed to dodge the other ones. Now, just wait. Harry and Ron will be here soon." He turned away, about to run.

"Don't call a Healer. They should attend to the ones that can be saved." He didn't' turn to see her. He just nodded, like he always did, and ran.

Again, she was alone, alone with Bellatrix and the other unfortunate ones that had fallen in battle. She started to get numb once more, sleepy, too. But this time, she was crying. This would be the last time that she would see Harry, her long time leader, her comrade, her friend. It would be the last time that she would see Ron, her best friend, and so much more. But both were too stubborn to admit it. All those fights, those arguments, now they seemed so far away. The times those three shared, her precious memories, her unmatched brilliance, they would be lost. And soon.

She could feel the little strength she had left being taken away. Her eyes closed, but she kept fighting to keep them open. She didn't have much time left. Suddenly, she heard footsteps. They were closing in by the second. Were they Harry and Ron? No, it was only one pair of footsteps. Maybe Neville had reached Harry first.

"Oh dear," God, it was Molly Weasly. As she looked up to face her, she noticed her clothes were thorn and her face was full of scratched and small cuts. Tears strolled down the woman's face. There lay the girl she considered as her daughter, the girl she knew since she was eleven years old, the girl that right before the battle had confessed to her her feelings towards her son. Slowly, she knelt towards her and caressed her cheek.

"Neville told me. He found me along the way." She closed her eyes again. Her time was running out.

"Mrs. Weasly," her voice had been reduced to a whisper. "Thank you for everything you've done for me," she was forced to pause; she had to cough some blood out. "You took me in after my parent's died, and you had already helped me a lot even before that." Every word meant a new effort in order to continue, a new pain rising through her chest. But still, she meant each and every single one of them.

"And you've always been like a daughter to me, dear," she quickly replied, "but don't try to talk. You need to save your strength."

"No, if I keep waiting I won't have any left." Her eyelids were even heavier. Every image was a blur. Breathing was even more painful, yet she was numb. Was it possible? To be numb, yet feel pain. Apparently, it was. She had to give her goodbyes, at least to Molly Weasly. "Please tel Ron," What should she tell him? That she loves him? That every second of her battle with Bellatrix Lestrange she was more afraid for him and his fate than for her own? That the reason she wanted to survive was to be able to see that stubborn, stupid redhead?

"Tell him that I'm sorry, for everything. I'm sorry that I mocked him on our first year, and that I was petrified in the second." She was forced to pause every five seconds or so. Her voice was getting even lower. "For how we almost didn't' talk to each other at out third; that he didn't invite me to the Yule Ball on our fourth." She could barely concentrate. It was such a strange, yet so wonderful sensation. "For making him worry on our fifth, when I was knocked unconscious; that we wasted out time trying to get each other jealous on our sixth, and that we were both too stubborn to tell the truth to each other." Molly's tears fell to her chest, but she didn't fell them. She could feel nothing at this point. "Tell him that I'm sorry for breaking my promise."

Molly just nodded, unable to speak. It broke her heart to see her like that. Hermione Granger, always so determined, was lying in front of her dying.

"I feel kind of funny, Mrs. Weasly., like I'm flying." She didn't get a reply. She looked at the side opposite of Molly, straight into a pair of green, worried eyes. "Harry."

"I'm here, Hermione, I'm here," he moved closer. Gently, he lifted her upped body towards him. "Help! I need a Healer!" He yelled. With all her might, she gripped his hand.

"Thanks, Harry, but it's too late."

"This can't be happening. This can't be happening," he cried. There he was, the legendary Boy-Who-Lived, slayer of Lord Voldemort, crying.

"Please don't cry, Harry. Don't' cry," she whispered with a smile. It was her sweet, compassionate smile. She wasn't really sure if she was even looking at his eyes. Everything was blurry and dark. She could still manage to see his body frame, but it was like a shadow in the night. "I remember when I first met you and Ron He had that huge dirt stain in his face, and I couldn't believe I was actually meeting you."

"Hermione, I-"

"Understand, meeting you guys was the best thing that could ever happen to me. I don't regret anything. I wouldn't change a second of it."

"What are we supposed to do if you go, Hermione? What?"

"You'll figure it out."

"You're the smart one." He was smiling, at least, she though he was. A joke, as bad as it was, helped. His tears strolled down his face as he did. She liked the thought. The last time she'd see him he would be smiling. "Does it hurt?"

"Not anymore."

"Ron should be here any second. He'll be here."

"I know. Please take care of him for me. You know how he's always getting into trouble."

"I will. I will." He was shaking.

"This wasn't supposed to happen. I was the one that-"

"No you weren't" She quickly interrupted. "You weren't supposed to die, not here." He looked at her in confusion. "Don't you see, you dimwit? The hero can't die, not when he still has so much to live for. Besides, the cool character always dies." He hugged her tightly, but again, she couldn't feel it. The numbness was total.

"I'm as much of a hero as everybody else here."

"Maybe, maybe not. Her time was out. She was leaving. "I'm going now, Harry.

"Ok." She wondered how he looked. He was probably with his eyes closed, nodding.

"It'll be all right. Don't worry."

"I'm so sorry, Hermione."

"I know. I know." Even his frame was blurry now, and dark. No, she had to try and see one last time. Somehow, she managed to concentrate.

There he was: Ron.

She saw his hand reach for her face. He said something, but she wasn't able to make it out. Now she was in his arms. She could see his red hair, his eyes, the shock, the injuries, the tears. But she couldn't feel. Her brain wasn't working. She had to say something, anything.

"Not the hero, Harry. Not the hero."

And she looked at Ron. It was the last thing she saw before being engulfed by darkness; before leaving to an unknown place, a place with no more pain, no more memories.

Nothing.

**A/N: **After a week, it is finally complete:D I had a lot of fun writing it, hope you enjoy it…and that you review. :)

It's not my fault I want Hermione to die, I can't help it. D: Don't know why, I always love that my favorite characters die or suffer. Well, please R & R!


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